


Nightmare

by 2originalcents



Category: South Park
Genre: Character Death, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-09 02:57:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3233684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2originalcents/pseuds/2originalcents
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cartman is plagued with the same recurring nightmare all his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sad little number, so just warning y'all.

8.

_Cartman was running. He didn’t know from who or towards where, he just knew he needed to run. It was pitch black all around him, and in the distance he saw a faint outline of a home. His home. He knew someone was waiting for him there. A woman. She was setting the table for dinner. She was waiting for her son to get home. Cartman ran as hard as he could, but he never got any closer. He felt his lungs burning and his stomach churning at the effort. He winced, and in that second his home was gone and he was left alone in the darkness._

Cartman woke up, about to cry when he realized he was in his room. He made it to his home after all. He sighed in relief, and reached for his stuffed frog, who was laying just next to his pillow. Before he could go back to sleep, however, a stench hit his nose, and when he moved his leg he felt a sticky moisture. He sat up and pulled the blanket off, revealing a stain on his pajama pants. He had wet the bed for the sixth time that month. Cartman got up and changed his pajamas and changed his bed sheets the way his mother would. He went down to his basement with the soiled linen and washed them the way he remembered his mom doing so, all while holding onto his stuffed frog.

 

12.

_He was closer to the home this time. He could make it if he just ran a bit faster._

_Cartman looked through a window, and saw the same woman setting up dinner. A man came into view. He had red hair and a full mustache. Cartman ran even harder, his parents were waiting for him. He felt his legs growing heavier, like weights were being added to his thighs. A boy sat with his parents, he was older than Cartman, and he looked like the man. Cartman had stopped running and suddenly realized he was at the front door. He knocked the door but the family inside was busy eating and laughing without him._

_“Mom?” He called out, knocking again. “Mom?!” He said with more urgency, banging the door, but no one so much as turned to him._

_“MOM! MOM! LET ME IN MOM!”_

“Mom… Mom… Mom!” Cartman screamed, though he was still asleep.

Liane rushed to his room and shook him awake. Cartman flailed as he woke up. He sat and panted, confused and looking at his mother, who looked worried.

“You were having another nightmare, sweetie. You were calling out to me. You’re okay now, baby,” she leaned down to kiss his forehead, which was sweaty.

Cartman didn’t say anything. He had to bite back the urge to ask if he could sleep with her that night. He was getting too old for that, and besides, the dream wasn’t that bad. But he could still feel the hollowness in his chest, he didn’t want to be alone.

Liane could sense this. She sat on the edge of the bed and Cartman laid back down, too. He turned his back on his mom and Liane ran her fingers a few times through his hair before she started rubbing his back. She hummed him a gentle lullaby as she rubbed and scratched his back. He didn’t know how long his mother stayed with him, but it was long enough that he drifted back to sleep thanks to the humming and the soft touches.

 

16.

_The old home was behind him. Cartman didn’t know why he was running from it. He still longed for it. Longed for the warm dinner and the woman inside. But there was something else out there that he wanted even more. Someone else. The blackness was still all around him, but at the end of it he could see someone’s back. They were wearing a light blue sweater, and their hair was a bright and brilliant yellow. Cartman was drawn to it like a light. In the home he only felt an empty desire for something he knew he could never have, but with this somebody he felt a sweet warmth reaching every point in his body._

Cartman awoke smoothly. He blinked a few times and looked around his room. He felt the warmth from his dream in his chest and cheeks. There was a stickiness between his legs, but it was different from when he was a child. He didn’t bother to clean this up. He curled into himself, his eyes drooping as he grew sleepy again. The warmth didn’t leave him, and he held onto it, like a substitute for the person, he let it cradle him back to sleep.

 

25.

_This home was new. A man was there this time. Cartman wasn’t sure he could make it, he was so tired. But he thought about the man waiting for him, and that kept him pushing forward. He was so close, but whenever his fingers grazed the door, the home would recede back, and he would have to keep running, praying that next time he’ll be able to hold the home down in place._

“Darling, are you okay?” Butters asked, waking Cartman and gently caressing his cheek with the back of his fingers. “I think you were having a bad dream, but you’re okay now.”

Cartman turned to Butters, who was smiling at him, his fingers still stroking his cheek. He curled into Butters chest, listening to his heartbeat as Butters put his arms around him and held him close.

Cartman traced the smooth coolness of his wedding ring with his thumb, finding comfort in its meaning, that his home is always in his hand.

 

42.

_In the darkness Cartman looked around, this way and that, right and left. But there was nothing, no direction propelling him forward. He didn’t know where his home was, what path to take to get there. He felt panic rising in his chest. The man was waiting for him, along with two small children. They would think they were abandoned, but he just couldn’t figure out his way to them. He spun in circles, trying to find a glint in the darkness, anything to tell him where to run towards._

Cartman bolted up right, panting as he was drenched in cold sweat. He turned to his left, and Butters was sleeping peacefully, the blanket to his chin. He leaned over to kiss his cheek softly before getting out of bed and slipping on a robe.

He quietly slid out of his room to the bedroom across the hall where his daughter was sleeping. In her sleep she had tossed her blanket to the floor, and now she was shivering. Cartman grabbed the blanket and covered her with it. He lightly pushed her hair back from her forehead and kissed her there.

From her room he went to see his son, who was whimpering in his sleep, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Hey, baby, hey, wake up,” Cartman whispered to his son, kneeling next to his bed and rubbing his back.

His son woke with a start. He stared at his dad, trying to remember where he was.

“You were having a nightmare, baby, but you’re safe now.”

His son nodded, pressing his hands into his eyes, but he couldn’t stop the tears from coming. Cartman could feel him trembling under his touch. He let his son cry as he continued rubbing his back, softly cooing at him.

When his son stopped crying, he tucked him back into bed, and handed him his favorite rag doll to hold onto. Cartman sat back down next to the bed, laying his head on his right arm as he ran his left hand up and down his son’s back until he was back asleep.

Cartman watched him sleep for a moment longer, an immense guilt nestling on his shoulders. He couldn’t keep the nightmares from reaching his son anymore than he could keep them from reaching him.

 

88.

_Cartman was in the home, but he was alone. He opened each door, looking for him, for the man, but he was nowhere. Each door he opened led to endless darkness. The dinner table was empty. It was old, the wood cracking and rotting. He searched and searched, but there was no one. As he gave up, he headed for the door, but it was gone. He was trapped in this home alone._

Cartman woke to Butters in his arms. He was spooning him, their hands intertwined.

“You’re so cold,” he murmured, pulling up the blanket to cover Butters.

He kissed his temple, which was just as cold. Cartman sat up and pushed the blanket back.

“Butters?” He said, shaking him, but he didn’t stir.

Cartman swallowed, looking at him. Tears filled his eyes and he covered his mouth with his hand. He shuddered and broke down, sobbing and crying, holding Butters close, willing himself to wake up. Praying someone would wake him up from this.

 

92.

_Cartman was on his knees. His chest was heaving, his legs as heavy as lead. He couldn’t remember running, but his body did. And his body was exhausted. He tried to stand, he could see the faint outline of a home in the distance, but he fell back down, his hands bracing him from the fall. He couldn’t stand. He couldn’t run. He was done._

_He looked up, tears in his eyes as the home disappeared before him, leaving him alone in the darkness._


End file.
